unusual Sunday
by Lizella
Summary: Living in the village after Vianne, Roux and the Chocolaterie have changed their concept of the world so profoundly!


Authoress note: So first "Chocolat" fanfic for me, but there are simply too few. As you will notice, this takes place after the movie and as you will notice it is written from a rather special persons point of view about the life in the town with the Chocolaterie. Enjoy and review!

If someone had told me how chocolate can change your whole life a year ago, I would have frowned at him and dismissed his idea as ridiculous. Chocolate is, after all, just something to eat, unhealthy even, that should not be consumed too often and only with vigilance.

But chocolate can change, if not the world, than at least the living in some small town like ours.

Vianne Rocher, who I could not stand at first sight, brought the chocolate with her. It was all in her too sweet and honest smile and her friendly and helpful mannerism. She could charm most people in this town with just one look. Like Santa Clause she offered her chocolates and they took it grateful and in awe, like children and rewarded her with their friendship.

She had taken my mother and my son from me, robbed me of my family and I felt painted as an evil daughter/mother in the picture she drew of me. Changing your mind is a hard task!

But it is not that easy! That was what I told myself. You can not rush into a place and with one smile transform it into a world of happiness and friendly people. But she still did!

I stand outside the chocolaterie and watch how she stirs the warm liquid in a round pot. Her moves swift and natural and with that happy simple smile upon her face. That is all she seems to need. That and Roux who comes downstairs, grins at her and kisses the smear of chocolate on her right cheek away. She laughs and lovingly ducks her thumb into the pot and places the chocolate onto his lips. They have found each other, natural and happy. And I turn away.

On this warm Sunday afternoon, the whole village seems to be out on the street. I greet Monsieur Blerot passing by, ignoring his dog who runs around without a leash, for he is much to occupied with paying Madame Audel compliments, who is hooked into his arm and appears much younger than she did a few weeks ago.

How long he has tried to court her, only the stars know. But what once had seemed so hopeless, was quite promising now, as the strolled down the street in perfect unision.

"And how about this one?" my son Luc asks Viannes daughter Anouk, while showing her a picture that is clearly a graveyard. He draws a lot at the moment, pinning up the papers all over his room and showing them to every person in town. "I know." Anouk tells him and smiles that smile of her mothers at him. "These are the mountains where the fairies live."

Fairies? Was the imiginary kangoroo not enough? And what does Luc do? He returns the smile and answers "That is true." Then he sighs. "You really understand my pictures. Mother never does. She always guesses wrong, most times she does not even want to try."

Again I feel like an intruder, even on my own son. I do not understand him, that is what he thinks. And he is right.

He had been a quiet boy, overshadowed by his fathers death. Drawing had been his recluse. Even I had noticed how he had grown livelier when coming in contact with the Chocolaterie and getting to know his grandmother. I had been the evil stepmother of every fairy tale and he had let me know. Since my mothers death, we had tried to get along somehow, but it was a hard and long road. How close had I come to loosing my own son?

When I look up again my steps have led me to my mothers grave. "Armande Voizin" the stone says. "Beloved mother, grandmother and friend". And what a bunch of flowers there is. White lillies, I know Vianne put them there. And she has cleared the grave of dirt. What kind of daughter does she believe me to be? That I can not even take care of my own mothers grave.

How often I had felt like the older of the two of us. Told her what she should do and what not. Scolding her like a child and felt I had the right to. When I should have talked to her instead, listened to her opinions and respected them instead of regarding them as foolish.

I want to pray, but it seems so wrong to me. I feel awkward standing there and talking to my dead mother, so I just stand there and stare. I do not know for how long.

Suddenly I hear laughing. Laughing…on a graveyard. I round the corner to see Josephine Muscat holding her sides and trying to catch her breath. "You could help me with the new seeds, instead of taking joy in the sight of a poor pere sweating in the sun while fighting with some plants" Pere Henri tells her, but in a kind and amused tone. She immediately takes a few of the seeds and swiftly starts planting, as if to proove how capable she is of each task that is assigned to her.

Josephine Muscat is someone who really deserves happiness. The way her husband had treated her, had been a talk in the village for years, but only a rumour and never known for certain. That was what we had tried to make ourselves belief. If you close your eyes, you do not have to see! But if you opened them, you could still see the scars left on her, but they seemed to heal and with time they would disappear except for their imprint on her soul.

A wonderful, sunny Sunday afternoon, the whole village on its feet, strolling around in the streets, talking and laughing and enjoying the sunlight and each others company. And I feel like the puzzle piece that simply does not fit in.

Although it is Sunday, I still find myself in front of the town hall, my workplace and it strangely feels like home. The door is open and when I enter I do not wonder at the Comte who sits at his desk and stares out the window.

Down there Vianne and Roux chase each other across the court in an awfully childish way. He catches her, or rather she stops on purpose and he softly embraces her and they kiss.

"Mrs Clairmont" the Comtes voice rips me out of my watching "What are you doing here on a Sunday afternoon?"

How could I say that I had nowhere else to go and could not bear staying in my house on my own. "I forgot some papers that you wanted me to read through" I take the stack of sheets, which I had already read.

"Ah, I see" there is something akin to disappointment in his voice. "Well, in that case, I wish you a happy Sunday." And he turns away.

I could leave with the stack of writing in my hand. I could return to my house to read them again, alone.

"I lied." He turns to me and looks curious. "Those papers." I put them down on my desk again. "I already read them on Friday."

"Why are you here then, Mrs Clairmont?" he asks and frowns.

"Caroline" I offer him my first name. "I needed to get out. And it just felt natural to come here." More so than any other place in town.

He nods. Vianne and Roux now greet Anouk who comes running towards them. Roux starts tickling her and through the window we can hear her giggles. Vianne smiles.

"How can they be so happy?" he asks, not me, but into the nothingness. And I know he understands.

Then he turns to look at me. For maybe the first time he truly sees me, not his secretary, not Mrs Clairmont, but Caroline.

"You were right" his tone is defeated, he means his wife "She will not come back."

But he looks at me now, not mindlessly stares out the window. "Each time I told someone that she was on a holiday in France and would return soon, I was trying to convince myself. And none of them ever opposed me. It took your words to make me realise that I could not fool myself any longer." he stops and I fear that he is going to draw back now.

An inner battle is written all across his face and I wait patiently. "Would you like to have some coffee at the chocolaterie?" he asks somehow uncertain.

"Yes, I would love to" my mouth answers and I wonder when the last time was that my heart had acted before my brain.

The Comte offers me his arm in that gentlemanly manner and I take it and find myself smiling. Vianne waves at me and I know this Sunday afternoon really will change something.

And for the better. Chocolate can make people happy. If they let it!


End file.
